


Pas un Régal

by FlushedDeck



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Additional Characters Mentioned, Halloween, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlushedDeck/pseuds/FlushedDeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘-and effective on the First of November, 2015; The United States of America will cease to be an independent nation. Dominion-ship will be established with the ruling power of the country given over to the French Republic...'</p>
<p>Halloween is once again here and things are much different this year than they have ever been, but this is a good thing, right? It will all turn out okay in the end, right? Alfred sure hopes so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pas un Régal

            “And with that marks the end of this month’s meeting.  The next one will be held in Copenhagen,” Germany was interrupted by a whooping noise then a thump of a hand to the back of a head, “I will be seeing you all there. Don’t be late. Meeting dismissed.”

            The sound of chairs being pushed back echoed throughout the room Denmark beginning to grumble at Norway for hitting him. Italy began chattering away where they- Germany, Japan, and himself- could go for dinner.

            Many of the others started breaking off into groups, laughter and constant chatter following them. The projector and computer were powered down as staff members began to pack up the tablecloths, chairs, and tables.

            England closed the latches to his suitcase before leaning backward, his hands on his lower back until he heard and felt a satisfying crack. He looked around nodding to Japan who nodded back with a soft smile as he left and to China who also returned the gesture before he was dragged out of the room by South Korea.

            He paused when he saw America lingering at the table. His briefcase was packed up and his jacket was on, signaling that he was ready to leave, but all he did was play with his hands, head slightly downcast as the others moved about him.

            “America, are you alright?” England asked the other blond with the slight furrowing of his eyebrows as he began to walk over.

            Blue eyes met green as Alfred looked up a nervous smile filtering its way to his face a few seconds too late.

            “Yeah, I’m doing fine. No need to worry Artie,” his smile widened ever so slightly, his eyes closing soon afterwards. Arthur frowned. The other’s hands flexed.

            “You know you can tell me if something is bothering you.”

            Alfred nodded.

            “I know, don’t worry. Just in a bit of a,” he paused biting his lip for a moment. His hands tightened into fists, “A bit of a slump.”

            Arthur watched as Alfred shifted in his seat. He seemed to hunch over himself even more eyes going downcast once more.

            “Well, I am sure you will get over it and then-”

            “I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he interrupted the Brit head jerking over towards the door. Arthur looked up to see France making his way back into the room a smile on his face.

            “Our ride is out front, our bosses should meet us at the restaurant,” Francis spoke towards Alfred his gaze soon flicking over to Arthur.

            Arthur didn’t say a thing as Francis walked over to Alfred soon picking up the younger’s suitcase placing the other on his shoulder. Alfred didn’t tense or hit his hand away. He looked uneasy, as if he was feeling sick.

            “Yeah, wouldn’t want to keep the boss man waiting,” he began to stand up but stopped. The hand hadn’t moved. He stayed still.

            “Is there something going on that I am not aware of?” Arthur asked, an edge coming into his voice. His hand itched to reach for his side. He didn’t carry a gun on him anymore, not that the others knew. Francis let out a laugh, ruffling Alfred’s hair before withdrawing it all together.

            “But of course not! We were just having a bit of fun, correct _Amerique?_ ”

            Alfred let out a laugh as well rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, we’re just fooling around Arthur, jeez.”

            He finally stood up stepping past Francis who moved back ever so slightly to allow him to pass. They both left the room shoulder to shoulder. England couldn’t help but feel something dreadful pool in his gut when he saw Francis’ free hand wrap around America’s like one would do to a lover.

            To a possession.

            _But_ , he had to remind himself _, if Alfred truthfully was in trouble he could easily fight off France. He could tell me. He could tell anyone._

            So he went back over to pick up his own suitcase. He didn’t follow them to the elevator to see Francis rub his thumb over the back of the other’s hand, or for Alfred’s smile to twitch a bit as the doors closed.

            He didn’t see Francis tugging Alfred along as they got outside as if Alfred didn’t know what he was doing- where he was going. Nor did he see Francis help Alfred into the limousine like one might see in a movie.

            He especially didn’t see the look that passed between the two filled with uncertainty from one and a stern nod from the other.

            Arthur didn’t give it a second thought. He had a plane to catch and a meeting to get to the next morning back on his own land. He had preparations to make and plans to be finalized. He didn’t even know of the agreement signed between the United States and the French Republic.

            No. He let it slip past his fingers and out of his mind.

            That was his first mistake.

* * *

 

            A week had passed since then, and finally Halloween had descended upon them. It was that time of year England and America would try to prove themselves as the top dog, the ultimate master; the true Halloween specialist.

            America might have won last year they had managed to get free time around Halloween with Japan’s help, but England refused to lose this time. If it was Japan’s doing (or Russia’s, for that matter) he would now see it coming from a mile away. America couldn’t use the same tricks, just like England couldn’t.

            Arthur had planned something simple for this year. He had placed what appeared to be a large ‘snake bite’ on his neck and had colored contacts to put into his eyes when America wasn’t looking. He’d pretend to be a vampire and suck Alfred’s blood. The other would scream out for him not to bite him please, he didn’t even taste _that good_ and Arthur would be the winner.

             It was going to be easy, simple really.

            Or that’s what he thought anyways.

* * *

 

            On Halloween night Arthur smiled to himself. It was still warm enough in Virginia around this time of year to not feel a chill as children, teenagers, and parents alike walked around from door to door. Laughter filled that air even as the sun dipped below the horizon.

            Arthur was smiling to himself as well as he approached the private drive. Alfred’s house lights were on however, he wouldn’t be handing out candy this year. England did find it odd that there was no candy bowl out, but perhaps someone had already made away with it.

            England looked himself over one more time before pounding on the door, the echoes of the trick-or-treater’s far away at the other end of the long darkened driveway. America’s car was parked outside of the garage. The kitchen and living room lights were on.

            No one came to answer the door.

            So this was the game America was playing. The Brit snorted before looking around the porch. Pumpkins sat around carved and hallowed out, their insides set ablaze with candles. Large ones, small ones; all different shapes and shades of orange.

           Only one remained unlit with its outside smooth yet with the top having been cut off.

            He crouched down and lifted it up before gently lifting the top off the spare house key sitting inside the hallowed out pumpkin. It was soon set back down the curtain upstairs shifting as it was reclosed.

            The door opened with an ominous creek. It hit the wall with a small thud as Arthur took a cautious step inside. There was nothing to jump out at him or to popup and try and scare him in the entry way. In fact, everything seemed completely normal. _Too_ normal.

            All of the shoes were put in order underneath the coat hangers. No coats or hats sat on the floor. The carpet was parallel with the wall, not crooked like it usually was. No dust was on the banister. No dirt was on the floor.

            Everything was organized and spotless. The only thing out of place was an extra pair of shoes too small to be Alfred’s size. Was he getting help again this year?

            Arthur made a face, his nose scrunching up and mouth dipping down. It still didn’t seem right. The house was too quiet. Too plain.

            He made his way through the living room unease pooling in his gut. A coat was strewn over the back of the love seat, a dull light blue with black buttons instead of a zipper. An empty glass sat on a coaster, as did an empty champagne glass, on top of the glass coffee table. The dull grey couches and matching side chairs were unoccupied even though the side lamp was turned on.

            It was all new. Only a few months before the coffee table had been solid wood. The couch hadn’t matched the side chairs. It had been a deep brown warn leather with a lighter brown love seat. A rocking chair had been present by the fireplace, pictures of friends and family on the mantle.

            A mirror rested above it now, the rocking chair gone with only a picture of Alfred as a child remaining.

            He walked into the kitchen keeping his footsteps silent. The magnets and notes previously left on the fridge were gone to be replaced by a magnetic calendar and pen. The countertop and stove were spotless. In the sink rested bowls, spoons- the pot remained on top of the stove untouched.

            There were two of each.

            His mouth felt dry. Something definitely seemed wrong. If Matthew visited, the two would order take out. Lithuania and America always ended up talking for hours on the couch after a meal. There weren’t many nations that were even invited to America’s Virginia home let alone knew where it was.

            He froze when a noise came from up stairs. It sounded like a thump followed quickly by a creek.

            Unlike downstairs, the upstairs hallway was dark. No lights were on in the hallways itself and as the stairs disappeared into darkness it felt as though he would be snatched up and eaten whole.

            Despite that fact, he kept climbing.  One of the steps let out a groan before he could reach the top. He had to wait for his eyes to adjust and once again nothing was on the floor. The bathroom door stood ajar, an extra toothbrush in the holder, new carpets on the tile floors, and pure white towels hung up to dry. Two of them.

            There was two of everything. Two, two, _two._

            Most of the rest of the doors were closed. The door to the office was open a crack, but light was pouring out from underneath the master bedroom’s door. Arthur made his way towards it hands balling into fists as he got closer.

            He paused at the tie lying on the floor. It was a dark maroon color, almost impossible to see in the dark, but the light reflecting off of the pin gave it away. He crouched down expecting to see the flags design. It was red, white, and blue. It just didn’t have any stars on it.

            Arthur’s blood ran cold, even more so when he heard another creek followed by whispered words and a groan.

            He slammed up from his place on the floor quickly reaching for the knob. The door was yanked open England’s face going pale.

            Alfred laid back, his shirt unbuttoned and hands tied above his head attached to the headboard with his own tie, Francis sitting on his thighs hands on top of the others chest his mouth up against the American’s neck. France’s shirt was already gone.

            Arthur’s mouth opened for a second as Alfred’s eyes widened Francis soon pausing in his ministrations to look over at the intruder. Hickies littered Alfred’s neck, a flush spread across his cheeks, down his neck, and ears.

            “Ah, Arthur, I was just having some fun with my new conquest,” a grin overtook his face. His hands moved, brushing over and pinching at the other’s chest, Alfred letting out a noise that sounded half way between a moan and a yelp.

            It took a moment for the situation to set in, Alfred stuttering in the background and Francis trying to shush him with a kiss.

            Arthur took a step back before letting out a scream.

* * *

 

            Alfred sat in his living room with his legs tucked underneath him. The couch wasn’t as comfortable now, it wasn’t warn down and soft like the other one had been, but he would have to deal with it now. Just for now.

            Just until this was all over.

            The glass of water he had been drinking earlier now sat empty on top of the table and already the sun was beginning to dip down into the sky. Francis would be arriving soon. He had already gotten the wine chilled. Francis said he would be cooking.

            It seemed so unnatural, but it would all be worth it. He had to keep reminding himself that, or else he wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

            Alfred was jarred out of his thoughts as knocks sounded from the door. He uncurled himself quickly making his way towards it, his hands going clammy before he even touched the door knob. He opened it with a whoosh of warm air following, Francis standing in a knitted blue coat on his front porch. A suitcase rested to his right. A smile was present on his face.

            “Alfred, _mon cher;_ it is so nice to see you. How have you been in my week’s absence?”

            America stood to the side to allow the other to pass by, a smile finding its way to his face. It was as if nothing was different about tonight.

            “I’ve been alright. Was the plane right over here okay?”

           He watched as Francis took off his shoes gently nudging them in line with the others. Some of his hair fell over into his face, seeming to glow in the evening light. He soon tucked it back behind his ears a hum coming from his throat.

            “It was perfectly fine. I am going to put my luggage up in our room. Could you pour me a glass of wine?” it was asked before he whisked up the stairs.

            He had forgotten to take of his jacket, but that was the least of Alfred’s worries. He let out a small breath before making his way to the kitchen heart throbbing in his chest. The wine was poured before he made his way back into the living room.

            Francis had taken off his coat and laid it on the back of the love seat, where he was now splayed out, his body limp in relaxation. Alfred handed him the glass before moving to sit back towards the coach. A hand on his wrist stopped him.

            France tugged him down so he was sitting next to the other. The Frenchman moved so he was cuddled up against the others side one of his legs hooking over Alfred’s in an attempt to get comfortable. After a few moments he was settled, a content sigh escaping his lips.

            “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do this every day?”

            Alfred smiled at the other’s question before turning his head to kiss Francis on his temple.

            “Maybe.”

            The minutes passed in silence, Francis taking sips of his wine as Alfred began to get drowsy from the warmth pressed up against his side. His head rested on Francis’ shoulder, eyelids fluttering as he tried to stay awake.

            There was a shift as Francis put his now empty glass on the coffee table, Alfred letting out a small noise of protest without even thinking about it. There was a small laugh as Francis sat back once again, one hand going to cradle one side of Alfred’s face the other interlocking with one of Alfred’s.

            Humming filled the air a few seconds later. America let out a content sigh before he fell asleep, the feeling of Francis’ fingers carding through his hair and the small vibrations his throat made lulling him into comfort.

            Alfred opened his eyes to find himself alone on the love seat an hour later. He internally panicked. The sun was on the horizon, the sky ablaze a dull pink. It had been an hour at least. He stood up rushing into the kitchen to find Francis cooking like he said he would.

            Soup, he was making clam chowder by the smell of it. He glanced over his shoulder beckoning the other with a hand. Alfred stepped forwards shuffling a bit nervously once he was next to the other.

            “Sorry for falling asleep on you,” it was mumbled but France just shook his head holding the spoon out for Alfred to taste.

            “It’s fine; no harm, no fowl.”

            America nodded before tasting the soup. He let out a sound of confirmation and soon the stove was switched off. Bowls were poured and spoons were taken out of the cupboards. They ate in silence as the sun finally disappeared, the sky turning orange before going dark.

            The kitchen was cleaned up and soon they retreated upstairs to the office. Alfred got out the paper work that would be needed hands nervously tapping on his desk.

            “You can always back out now _Amérique,_ but this will be your last chance,” the words were soft; a comforting hand was placed on his back.

            “No, it’s fine. Our bosses signed off on it last week. We just need to sign the paper right?”

            France nodded before picking up the pen signing his name first, human and country. He handed it to America before taking a step back and giving him some space. Alfred looked the paper over one more time, pen resting on the line at the bottom of the page.

            _‘-and effective on the First of November, 2015; The United States of America will cease to be an independent nation. Dominion-ship will be established with the ruling power of the country given over to the French Republic._

_The President of the United States will continue to hold their power; however they will have to answer to the French government as will the entirety of the United States. Further rules and regulations are to be discussed at a future date. The ‘relationship’ between the nation of France and the French Dominion America will not be made known to the public until these rules are established._

_I hereby agree to all of the terms above by signing in the space bellow.’_

            Francis Bonnefoy was written in loopy cursive on one line, the one bellow it read _République Française_. Alfred nodded to himself before finally allowing his hand to move.

            He signed ‘Alfred Foster Jones’ before printing ‘The United States of America.’

            Bellow that it read ‘French Dominion of America.’

            The pen dropped on the desk with a clatter. Francis leaned over and turned the light off before holding a finger up to his lips. He tugged America over to the window as the curtain was shifted to the side.

            Outside Arthur had lifted up the pumpkin with the key inside. Alfred’s eyebrows shot up.

            “He is here earlier than usual,” he whispered out, “We didn’t turn off the lights, we need to go downstairs and tell him to-”

            “Alfred, do you trust me?”

            America went quiet for a moment before a smile broke out across his face, “Well, I did just sign my nationhood away to you.”

            Francis smiled back before he tugged the other into the dark hallway. The office door was only left open a crack as they shuffled towards the bedroom, not towards the stairs. Alfred sent him a look unsure if Francis could see it in the dark but he was only gently pushed towards the door.

            The front door opened with a creek. Francis left one of his ties in the hallway before he closed the bedroom door. Only then did he turn the lights on. They only had a few minutes and Francis knew exactly what to do.

            “Alfred, grab me one of your ties,” it was said in a hushed tone as he began to unbutton his shirt it soon falling to the floor forgotten for now.

            Alfred gulped as Francis led him over to the bed his eyes widening once he realized what was going on, “This is really an inappropriate time for that Francis- he could come up here at any time and-”

            “Are you saying I can’t do what I want to _my_ dominion?”

            America shuttered, cheeks going pink at the sultry tone of voice. Francis backed him up until he was sitting on the bed. The other crawled on top of him a second later, giving the side of his mouth a kiss pushing him down so his arms were askew along the covers.

            France tied up his wrists and began to nip along America’s jaw line, smiling as the other’s breath hitched.

            “Now remember,” he whispered out, now breathing against the other’s ear, “, if you break the tie, it will be considered an act of defiance. We wouldn’t want that would we?”

            His eyes danced playfully as Alfred shuttered once again. America bit his lip not wanting to make any noise. Francis moved up, kissing his forehead before removing his glasses. He tried to set them down on the side table but his hand hit the lamp.

            The lamp hit the floor with a thud Francis not giving it a care in the world instead choosing to shift his weight forwards the bed squeaking a bit in protest.

            “F-Francis, seriously-”

            “I thought you said you trusted me Alfred?” he asked the question as he began to unbutton the others shirt.

            “I do, I do- Francis I do but you’re- _oh god_ -”

            France sucked on the junction between his neck and shoulder, no doubt leaving a hickie in its wake once his lips had let go and moved a bit more upwards, “So trust me. And, _cher_ , he has nothing to do with this.”

            He waited a moment before Alfred gave him a nod of confirmation. Francis smiled giving him another kiss on the lips, then on the tip of his nose before it was back down to his neck.

            Francis nipped, sucked, and downright bit on America’s neck leaving behind marks of red and purple. His hands reached down circling one of the American’s nipples giving it a small squeeze. He kissed across the other’s jaw as he let out a gasp face turning a rosy color.

            He heard the stairs groan in protest, America did not.

            Francis leaned back for a moment to see the picture painting in front of him; Alfred laid back, his eyes shut and breaths uneven. His cheeks glowed pink. Beautiful- he was absolutely breathtaking.

            Francis leaned forwards once again thumbs rubbing the others chest, “ _Belle, tu es belle_ ,” and Alfred groaned in response.

            The door was slammed open Arthur starting to rush into the room but he froze in place. Alfred tensed underneath Francis eyes popping open at the intruder. Francis looked behind himself as if he wasn’t expecting the other there at all.

            England could see everything, there was no doubt about it- oh how this was working out splendidly.

            “Ah, Arthur, I was just having some fun with my new conquest,” he grinned afterwards, giving Alfred’s nipples another pinch. The other moaned with a high pitch as he began to babble.

            “Oh my god, Francis, Arthur he’s going to find-”

            “Hush, hush,” Francis leaned in to kiss the other right as Arthur let out a scream of terror.

            Oh how fun this night was turning out to be.

* * *

 

            England mentally slapped himself as he took another step back before he no longer felt overwhelming fear - _despair_ \- no. He felt anger; anger pooling in his gut like a molten pool.

            He strode forwards before grabbing France and throwing him off the side of the bed. Alfred gaped at the scene as Arthur untied his hands before standing guard of the younger nation as if to protect him.

            “You have done many things in your day France, but I never imagined you would stoop this low,” Arthur practically growled it out. His eyes were narrows, his eyebrows drawn down tightly together. His fists were clenched.

            His whole stance radiated anger and France had the balls to laugh.

            “Oh Arthur, I am simply claiming what is mine you silly thing! Alfred is doing this because he wants to, isn’t that right?”

            Arthur turned to look at Alfred, who was nodding ever so slightly his hands clasped together in front of himself. Arthur gave him a look of disbelief.

            “Besides, even if he didn’t, Alfred has no power over me anymore. Isn’t that right?”

            Once again Alfred nodded shoulders slumping.

            “But I assure you, I would never do something like that without consent. It is something that is to be cherished and shared- not abused and soiled.”

            Arthur looked confused still- so he hadn’t checked the office first. Francis’ smile widened. Oh this would be fun. “Alfred, come here.”

            Arthur tensed even further as the American began to crawl off the side of the bed, “Alfred, if he is hurting you, you don’t need to-”

            “Oh, but he does. Isn’t that right my little dominion?”

            England froze watching as America stood next to France now rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. France wrapped a hand around the other’s torso giving his side a squeeze. Alfred let out a small squeak, but he did not push the hand away.

            “ _Bullshit_ ,” England’s voice was like acid, body beginning to shake in anger.

            “I tell nothing but the truth. The paperwork was finalized this week. We could show you if you’d like,” Francis reached into one of the dressers as he spoke throwing on one of America’s t-shirts to remain decent. Alfred began to button up his own eyes refusing to leave the ground.

            England didn’t answer, but France tugged America out of the room so England followed.

            The light in the office was turned on, the room’s rearrangement becoming apparent. Francis pointed a flourished hand towards the desk. Alfred seemed to find the bookcase against the far wall the most interesting thing in the world.

            Arthur walked over to it peering down at the papers on the top of the dark wood. His whole body stilled, everything suddenly becoming apparent.

            The way Alfred was acting last week, the dinner he had with Francis, how he had been in a slump- it wasn’t a slump. He had lost the one thing he held close to him. Independence.

            “It’s not as bad as it seems Arthur,” Alfred had finally spoken up a smile making its way to his face, just like it had after the meeting. Uncertain. Not real.

            “My country wasn’t doing all that good and well, Francis offered his ears, then his hand. It just seemed to make the most sense. Most things will be the same; I just have someone else to answer to. I’d be staying over in Europe every now and again,” he got quieter and quieter as he went on, “It shouldn’t be too bad right?”

            Francis chose to step forwards then his hand intertwining with Alfred’s, “I am not going to do anything to harm him. If anything, it will be a benefit for all of us.”

            Arthur didn’t say anything. He turned to face the two, face pale.

            The last thing he saw was Alfred’s eyes widen as he rushed forwards and Francis’ feet moving towards him as his face in the wooden floor. He passed out. Cold.

* * *

 

_…_

_… …_

_The meeting room remained silent as Ukraine and Belarus tried to hold back sobs. All others were frozen in their seats as Russia convulsed on the floor. His veins started to turn black trickles of blood coming out of his mouth and staining the carpet below him._

_America stood above him as his hands trembled. His eyes looked glossed over, a small smile coming to his face._

_“No one ever, ever, ever tries to hurt Francis. Never ever, ever,” he mumbled out a few more things, backing up as Ivan’s body finally stopped moving._

_“What did you do- what did he do?” China was standing up, terror written clear on his face._

_France sighed and motioned for America to come back to his side, which he did. A smile lit up his face as France gave his shoulder a pat. A dog, like a trained dog._

_“Ivan’s armies tried to attack Paris, as you are all already aware. So we did the same in kind,” Francis smiled, his body seeming to be completely relaxed._

_“But he- he shouldn’t-” Ukraine let out a cry not being able to finish._

_“Moscow is nothing but ashes now. Same with Saint Petersburg, Novosibirsk, Yekaterinburg; so many cities destroyed and gone,” Francis looked down at Ivan’s body with a soft sigh, “Such a shame things had to go this way.”_

_… …_

_…_

_“Our troops are advancing and closing in on Berlin,” Alfred mumbled against Francis’ neck. They both sat in a chair, the same one with not enough room for two people to sit. Francis sat on Alfred’s lap._

_“Good, good,” Francis smiled a gleam going into his eyes, “Both Ludwig and Gilbert are there, correct?”_

_“Mhmm,” Alfred pressed his face against it arms linking around Francis’ torso, “Did I do a good job?”_

_“Oui, oui- a very good job,” Francis kissed the other’s temple wrapping his hands around America’s much larger ones. They sat together in silence France’s strength growing as more and more of Germany’s land was taken away from him._

_Oh how nice this felt._

_…_

_…_

_…_

_China sat with his hands restrained behind his back. His hair was chopped off, his face and neck bruised horrible shades of yellow and black._

_He flinched when the door to his cell creaked open quiet foot falls following it shortly after. Someone stood behind him while the other stood in front. He couldn’t stop himself from shaking in fear tears slipping down his face._

_He had forgotten his own language already, his land, his family- what more did they want?_

_“You’re so close Yao, so close to joining us,” the voice was soft. He felt something prick the back of his neck liquid flowing into his veins up into his brain soon afterwards._

_“It’s alright to give in,” his head was turned upwards, clear blue eyes stood out amongst blurred shadows-_

_“It’s okay; you won’t need to worry about anything ever again. Just drift off, let your mind take you away,” he was being filled with fuzzy warmth his breaths getting deep and even._

_“That’s it, that’s it. Good job,” he liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot. He leaned into the hands that were cradling his head tears refusing to stop. Should he? Should he just let his mind drift?_

_“So close,” it seemed to echo. His tears stopped. His limbs felt lighter than they did._

_“There we go,” a kiss, he was being kissed, “, there we go.”_

_… …_

_…_

_…_

_The meeting room was silence once again. Barely anyone was present, most were off dealing with war or the failing economy. China sat doing calculations for heaven knows what. Canada had his hands clasped in front of him, tears streaking down his face, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs._

_Most of them were dead._

_Or missing._

_Just gone._

_… …_

_“I knew you had far worse intentions than helping America back on his feet during a crisis,” England spat the words out legs shaking as he stood up. France shorted stance shifting to one filled with boredom._

_His eyes looked the same as they did back during the time of Napoleon._

_“And yet, you didn’t do anything once you found out. You ignored it- did you not?”_

_England kept shaking, tears making their way down his face. He tried to ignore how Alfred was holding him down, face blank. His eyes were focused on francis and Francis only._

_A trained dog he now was._

_“You simply pushed it aside, said nothing could really happen. So, here we now are,” the gun’s safety was taken off once the other had finished speaking._

_“You-you-”_

_“I finally bested you. I took away what used to be yours, isn’t it funny?”_

_The gun’s barrel was pointing in his direction._

_“I find it rather hilarious,” the other took a few steps forward until the cold metal of the gun pressed against England’s forehead._

_“Any last words? The British Isles are flooding so badly I doubt you will wake up.”_

_The bombings, so much that mass flooding had been triggered throughout the countries that resided there. Ireland was already gone, as was Scotland and Wales._

_“You won’t win.”_

_Alfred didn’t react to anything that was said. He simply closed his eyes so no blood would get in them._

_A loud bang- no pain. Nothing_

_… …_

_…_

_Nothingness._

* * *

 

            England awoke with a start, his heart thundering in his chest. He sat bolt upright hands going to his face almost immediately. His head whipped around trying to see where he was- and he stopped.

            The sun was peaking in through an old windowpane, a small crack on the upper right side of the glass.

            He was in one of America’s guestrooms. He was alright, had been sound asleep.

            A dream, it had been a dream- but how much of it had been? Was America actually now a French dominion?

            He was snapped out of his thoughts as the door opened America stepping inside soon afterwards. He had a class of water and pain killers in his hands and an expression of relief on his face.

            “I am glad to see you are alright Artie! You took quite the fall by slamming your head against the floor like that,” he handed the items over. England swallowed the pills before setting the glass down on the side dresser. He looked up at America eyes filled with question.

            “So, so you’re actually-”

            “Yeah,” it was spoken softly, ever so very softy. He still smiled with happiness in his eyes, “But don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

            England just swallowed the lump in his throat watching as America went over to the dresser handing him the clothes he had been wearing yesterday. “Don’t worry, I took them off. If you’d like you could take a shower, or you could just come down now and we could all have breakfast.”

            All of us, including France.

            “I think I will take a shower first,” he swung his legs over the side of the bed. America nodded before leaving the room without saying another word. He listened as the other walked down the stairs before he finally let his shoulder drop.

            He refused to feel any sadness. It wasn’t his place- America wasn’t his. Hadn’t been for a long time.

            And now he never would be.

* * *

 

            England’s gut filled with dread with every stair he stepped down. He could hear noise from the kitchen; the two were talking as Francis cooked. He let out a breath. He just had to get through breakfast, and then he could leave.

            Then he could go home and forget any of this had happened.

            He stepped into the room to find America at the stove with Francis next to him, directing him at what to do. It seemed so tranquil- if one didn’t own the other that is.

            Francis turned to look at him as he sat down at the kitchen table.

            “Good morning Arthur.”

            Arthur simply nodded to him, not trusting his own voice. Alfred continued to cook, Francis continued to direct him, and Arthur tried not to cry.

            Soon the table was set and all three of them were eating in silence. Arthur wanted to say something, anything; but there wasn’t much to say. It was Alfred’s choice in the end, and he had made it. Arthur just hoped he would not regret it.

            He was staring intently down at his eggs when Alfred’s fork dropped onto the table with a clang. He stood up looking at his hands as they began to shake.

            Francis looked up but didn’t seem surprised. Arthur watched as Alfred gripped his head.

            “Alfred, what’s wrong?”

            He collapsed to the floor knees hitting it with a dull painful sounding thud. Arthur rushed over getting angry how Francis wasn’t even moving; he was sitting with hands hand folded in front of his mouth.

            “Alfred, come on, are you okay?”

            “It’s starting Arthur,” the younger blond gripped the Brit’s shoulders eyes open wider than he had ever seen.

            “What?”

            “The… the final transformation.”

            Arthur went still eyebrows furrowing together, “What the fuck are you talking about.”

            “The final transformation Arthur, I am,” he gripped his chest, “, becoming….”

            Francis’ shoulders were bouncing up and down and soon he was laughing.

            Finally Alfred screamed “French!” before collapsing completely to the floor. Laughing. He was laughing, they both were-

            “You- you- you fucking asshole!” he tackled Alfred as he began to sit up and soon enough they were rolling around on the floor Alfred laughing the whole time.

            Francis was wheezing, breakfast was soon forgotten.

* * *

 

            Francis stood outside the meeting room and listened into Alfred and Arthur’s conversation. So Arthur had fallen for the bait after all. Perfect. Simply perfect.

            He kept his gaze on Alfred as he walked in, and made sure to act touchy feely while in front of the other. He held the others hand as they left. They looked at each other in the limousine. Francis was getting second doubts though- what if this didn’t work?

            Alfred saw the look in his eyes, and give him a nod. Francis nodded in return their fingers lacing together.

            …

            Alfred and Francis sat with their bosses, smiles stretching across their faces.

            “So, can you agree to this?”

            The two humans looked at the paper one more time before looking back up at their personifications. They were grinning at each other, obviously they had a plan up their sleeves.

            _‘Any documents signed by the United States of America, Alfred Foster Jones, and the French Republic, Francis Bonnefoy, on the night of October 31 st, 2015, is completely null and void. All documentation signed on that day, and that day only, is a fluke, and whatever is agreed to upon said document is not to be enacted._

_By signing bellow you are agreeing to the terms above.’_

            Obama sighed quietly, looking up at Alfred one more time. “What do you have going on in your head this time?”

            Alfred simply smiled, “Just a bit of fun. No need to worry Mister President.”

            That made him worry all the more, but even so, both leaders signed the document.

            …

            Alfred grinned as the movers worked around him quickly and efficiently. He had offered to help, but they insisted they do this for their country. So Alfred simply watched as his furniture was taken out of his house before new furniture replaced it.

            They had to get everything right in order for this to work, and if this meant putting his regular stuff into storage for a week then so be it.

            Oh boy this was going to be fun.

            … …

            “I think you were a bit too harsh on him Francis,” Alfred let out a sigh as they observed the now passed out England.

            “Heavens no, I think it was your little speech that did him in, in the end,” Francis replied with a flippant hand. “I think you should set him up in the guest room, we can surprise him in the morning.”

            Alfred just shook his head with a fond look as Francis left the room and headed back towards the bedroom. Alfred lifted Arthur up before carrying him down and across the hall into one of the guest rooms- Arthur always stayed in this one.

            He got him out of this clothing, leaving on his boxers of course, before tucking him under the covers. After the clothes were folded he headed back into the hallway towards his room. Once inside of it, the door was closed and Francis wrapped his arms around the other’s torso.

            “Hey there princess.”

            France grinned before his hands began to reach under the other’s shirt, “Is that any way to address me, dominion?”

            “You are really getting into this, mhh?”

            The only response was a kiss, and so Alfred fell back into bed to finish what they had started, this time with no interruptions.

            …

            Alfred walked downstairs after talking to Arthur the next morning. He had gotten to wake up to Francis being snuggled up to his side earlier, but it was time to get this whole thing over and done with.

            “Fran,” he mumbled it out as he came up behind the other, wrapping his arms around France’s body letting his head rest on the other’s shoulder.

            “ _Oui_ , Alfred?”

            “We have to tell him this morning, I don’t want him to end up crying over something that was supposed to be a prank.”

            Francis nodded in agreement, “You still won the contest, yes?’

            “Mhmm, he got scared and I most defiantly didn’t.”

            Francis gave the other a kiss on the cheek. The water to the shower turned off upstairs.

            “Gonna pull a ’91. Try not to laugh too early, will you?”

            Francis smiled at that before quickly having them switch positions, giving Alfred’s side a little squeeze before Arthur had come downstairs. What an interesting week it had been. What an interesting week.

* * *

 

            Alfred was still cackling on the floor even as England tried to strangle him.

            “You piss fuck excuse of nation! I swear to god when I am done with you-”

            But Alfred just kept laughing, as did Francis. Arthur finally let America go as he stood up. His face was tinting pink from the fight, a one sided one but a fight none the less.

            “I fucking hate you,” he pointed a finger at France then stuck a middle finger up at America.

            “Gonna hate me even more after you realize you lost.”

            “Lost what?” but then it hit him. The contest.

            He stood there, in the middle of America’s kitchen dumbfound. America had done all of this for the contest. He had planned out weeks ahead of time and even got France to help him.

            “I think you broke him.”

            “Nah, don’t worry about it babe, he’s fine.”

            But then Arthur snapped out of it, “Babe? Did you just call him babe?”

            Alfred froze genuinely for the first time since Arthur had showed up at the house. Francis smile dropped his mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape. Alfred held up a finger before letting it drop down a wince taking over his expression.

            “Well?”

            Arthur raised his eyebrows as Alfred just put that nervous smile on his face again. Francis shifted getting ready to run if necessary. Alfred gulped before stammering out-

            “Um, I plead the fifth?”

           

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow I have been dead on here as of late. So I deeply apologize! 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed the 'spooky' story of mine. Tell me what you think in the comments if you can, and as I always say: sorry about any spelling errors or errors in the French phrasing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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